Today's poet

[freckle]

It's Monday, it's a whole new week,
It may be bad, it may be bleak,
It may be good, but one thing's for sure my friend,
When it's all over, it's another weekend:thumbup:

nice one steve, made me laugh

[freckle]

Unknown


She is most fair,
And when they see her pass
The poets' ladies
Look no more in the glass
But after her.


On a bleak moor
Running under the moon
She lures a poet,
Once proud or happy, soon
Far from his door.


Beside a train,
Because they saw her go,
Or failed to see her,
Travellers and watchers know
Another pain.


The simple lack
Of her is more to me
Than others' presence,
Whether life splendid be
Or utter black.


I have not seen,
I have no news of her;
I can tell only
She is not here, but there
She might have been.


She is to be kissed
Only perhaps by me;
She may be seeking
Me and no other; she
May not exist.

Edward Thomas

another intriguing choice alf!...the poor poet...what will become of him? hope he had his mudclaws on that bleak moor...the last line is curious and made me think of another one by felix dennis.....

That’s The Truth
Felix Dennis

‘That’s the truth.’
And yet it’s not.
Part invention, part forgot,
Part embroidered by the weaver
—Memory, that warped deceiver,
Spinning, spinning in our head
Yarns of non-existent thread.
Tasselled falsehoods: ‘You were king.
’We know we were no such thing:
Fabricated recollection
Loops the truth with false perception,
Spinning, spinning joy and wrath,
On a non-existent cloth.

[Stef F]

I've enjoyed these latest poems; thanks Steve, Freckle and Alf.

Something in them reminded me of my late grandmother, so with nothing much better to do I've written a poem about her:

Granny

My grandmother ran her own nursing home
Raised three daughters to standards these days unknown
She was as strict as she was kind
Bright and stubborn; she knew her own mind

My grandfather, a soldier, fond of the dawn
Taken by cancer, before I was born
He could not be saved, so there it ended,
A loss so deep that could never be mended

She’d come to visit, travelling by train
And when we were in Cyprus she’d take the plane
That’s how I remember her, when I was small
Chatting away about everything or nothing at all!

She’d paint landscapes in watercolour and oil,
Rocks and water and skies on the boil
One of these I treasure with pride
Aphrodite’s rocks, lapped by the tide

She lived alone for many years
With a small spaniel named Suzie who had big floppy ears;
Silky black and white, Suzie loved to be touched
She was spoilt just a little, but never too much

When the fairies took Granny, we didn’t notice the deceit
A nibble of chocolate, a sip of ribena, neat;
She had a sweet tooth, and was sometimes merry
We’d tease her and ask if she’d been on the sherry

She said she’d been to the moon, didn’t you know?
It really is a marvellous place you should go!
She’s travelled the world; to the most far flung places
Met the Pope too; lots of famous names and faces

Fascinating broadcasts by the BBC
Volcanoes, icebergs; the documentary
Holiday programmes, those long haul flights
Master Chef, such culinary delights

A mind full of golden memories unreal
That really wasn’t part of the deal
Does it matter? Did she realise?
What she thought was real; she’d seen through others eyes?

It left her confused, not knowing her daughters
Reduced to a child and lacking in orders
She asked for Thomas; her love that had died
And in the end,they were reconciled

[Keswick_Krumble]

EDIT: apparently this was "clever but offensive".

[freckle]

I've enjoyed these latest poems; thanks Steve, Freckle and Alf.

Something in them reminded me of my late grandmother, so with nothing much better to do I've written a poem about her:

Granny

My grandmother ran her own nursing home
Raised three daughters to standards these days unknown
She was as strict as she was kind
Bright and stubborn; she knew her own mind

My grandfather, a soldier, fond of the dawn
Taken by cancer, before I was born
He could not be saved, so there it ended,
A loss so deep that could never be mended

She’d come to visit, travelling by train
And when we were in Cyprus she’d take the plane
That’s how I remember her, when I was small
Chatting away about everything or nothing at all!

She’d paint landscapes in watercolour and oil,
Rocks and water and skies on the boil
One of these I treasure with pride
Aphrodite’s rocks, lapped by the tide

She lived alone for many years
With a small spaniel named Suzie who had big floppy ears;
Silky black and white, Suzie loved to be touched
She was spoilt just a little, but never too much

When the fairies took Granny, we didn’t notice the deceit
A nibble of chocolate, a sip of ribena, neat;
She had a sweet tooth, and was sometimes merry
We’d tease her and ask if she’d been on the sherry

She said she’d been to the moon, didn’t you know?
It really is a marvellous place you should go!
She’s travelled the world; to the most far flung places
Met the Pope too; lots of famous names and faces

Fascinating broadcasts by the BBC
Volcanoes, icebergs; the documentary
Holiday programmes, those long haul flights
Master Chef, such culinary delights

A mind full of golden memories unreal
That really wasn’t part of the deal
Does it matter? Did she realise?
What she thought was real; she’d seen through others eyes?

It left her confused, not knowing her daughters
Reduced to a child and lacking in orders
She asked for Thomas; her love that had died
And in the end,they were reconciled

I really enjoyed reading this stef, you grandma sounds like she was someone who brought a touch of magic and wonderment to those around her and I love the thought that she might finally be reconciled with her love...very moving, thank you for posting

[freckle]

where is this kind of love to be found?.....within or outwith? or in-between?...........


Atlas
U.A.Fanthorpe

There is a kind of love called maintenance
Which stores the WD40 and knows when to use it.

Which checks the insurance, and doesn’t forget
The milkman; which remembers to plant bulbs;

Which answers letters; which knows the way
The money goes; which deals with dentists

And Road Fund Tax and meeting trains,
And postcards to the lonely; which upholds

The permanently rickety elaborate
Structures of living, which is Atlas.

And maintenance is the sensible side of love,
Which knows what time and weather are doing
To my brickwork; insulates my faulty wiring;
Laughs at my dryrotten jokes; remembers
My need for gloss and grouting; which keeps
My suspect edifice upright in air,
As Atlas did the sky.

[freckle]

http://www.poetryarchive.org/poetrya...o?poemId=11507

[Hes]

I love this poem, nice choice Freckle and I found the Atlas poem intriguing.

http://www.poetryarchive.org/poetrya...o?poemId=11507

[Hes]

I read this poem on here the other night Alf and I loved it but was too tired to log in and say so, so I'm saying it now! I especially like the verse that you highlighted. We are in the midst of Masham Arts Festival here and on thursday it is poems and a pint night. I am going to take some of my favourite poems to read but am wondering if I have enough courage to read out one of my own (maybe I can say it was by a 'friend').

Unknown


She is most fair,
And when they see her pass
The poets' ladies
Look no more in the glass
But after her.


On a bleak moor
Running under the moon
She lures a poet,
Once proud or happy, soon
Far from his door.


Beside a train,
Because they saw her go,
Or failed to see her,
Travellers and watchers know
Another pain.


The simple lack
Of her is more to me
Than others' presence,
Whether life splendid be
Or utter black.


I have not seen,
I have no news of her;
I can tell only
She is not here, but there
She might have been.


She is to be kissed
Only perhaps by me;
She may be seeking
Me and no other; she
May not exist.

Edward Thomas

[Hes]

I agree with Freckle Stef, its lovely that you've immortalised her in words and shared your memories with us.

I really enjoyed reading this stef, you grandma sounds like she was someone who brought a touch of magic and wonderment to those around her and I love the thought that she might finally be reconciled with her love...very moving, thank you for posting